The Wheeler family, Jeffrey Allen, Curtis Keefe, and Burdon, the local detective, were all gathered in Mr. Wheeler’s den to recount the whole story to Fleming Stone. With grave attention, Stone listened, and young McGuire eagerly drank in each word, as if committing a lesson to memory. Which, indeed, he was, for Stone depended on his helper to remember all facts, theories and suggestions put forward by the speakers. Long experience had made Fleming Stone a connoisseur in “cases,” and, by a classification of his own, he divided them into “express” and “local.” By this distinction he meant that in the former cases, he arrived quickly at the solution, without stop or hindrance. The latter kind involved necessary stops, even side issues, and a generally impeded course, by reason of conflicting motives and tangled clues. As he listened to the story unfolded by the members of the party, he sighed, for he knew this was no lightning express affair. He foresaw much investigation ahead of him, and he already suspected false evidence and perhaps bribed witnesses. Yet these conclusions of his were based quite as much on intuition as on evidence, and Stone did not wholly trust intuition. Samuel Appleby was the principal spokesman, as he was the one chiefly concerned in the discovery of the criminal and the avenging of his father’s death. Moreover, he was positive the deed had not been done by any one of the Wheeler family, and he greatly desired to prove himself right in this. “But you were not here at the time, Mr. Appleby,” Stone said, “and I must get the story from those who were. Mr. Keefe, you came with Mr. Appleby, senior, and, also, as his confidential secretary you are in a position to know of his mental attitudes. Had he, to your knowledge, any fear, any premonition of evil befalling him?” “Not at all,” answered Keefe, promptly. “If he had, I do not know of it, but I think I can affirm that he had not. For, when Mr. Appleby was anxious, he always showed it. In many ways it was noticeable, if he had a perplexity on his mind. In such a case he was irritable, quick-tempered, and often absent-minded. The day we came down here, Mr. Appleby was genial, affable and in a kindly mood. This, to my mind, quite precludes the idea that he looked for anything untoward.” “How did he impress you, Mr. Wheeler?” Stone went on. “You had not seen him for some time, I believe.” “Not for fifteen years,” Dan Wheeler spoke calmly, and with an air of determined reserve. “Our meeting was such as might be expected between two long-time enemies, but Appleby was polite and so was I.” “He came to ask a favor of you?” “Rather to drive a bargain. He offered me a full pardon in return for my assistance in his son’s political campaign. You, I am sure, know all this from Mr. Appleby, the son.” “Yes, I do; I’m asking you if Mr. Appleby, the father, showed in his conversation with you, any apprehension or gave any intimation of a fear of disaster?”